


Oksekødssuppe

by DarkDreamsOfHannigram, theconsciousdarkness



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cooking, Crack, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Food Kink, Grinding, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Teasing, mentions of cannibalism, well a lot more crack than we usually write anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:33:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1396510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkDreamsOfHannigram/pseuds/DarkDreamsOfHannigram, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theconsciousdarkness/pseuds/theconsciousdarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will gets a little forward with Hannibal when he wakes up in his house, to find him making soup stocks for his dishes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oksekødssuppe

Saturday mornings had a ritualistic layer to them for Hannibal. The weekend was generally the only uninterrupted amount of time he could spend at home, not having to go to the office to see patients, that he could prepare ingredients and plan meals for the rest of the week. The specificity of his eating habits made this necessary; and there were guests to be accounted for, wine to be paired, and any number of things.

These times were the very basis of his cuisine. These were the hours that he prepared and began to craft the various stocks that he made which formed the foundation of his exquisite dishes.

There was something a little different about this Saturday, however. It was that Will Graham was still sleeping in his bed. Hannibal had gotten up early, as he usually did, to prepare the bones for the stocks, and roast the meatier ones before including them. There was chicken stock, vegetable, fish, and…another. This one would require the most attention, and a measure of discretion before Will rose that morning. He took the opportunity to let the man sleep. After all, Hannibal was inclined to believe that he would be fairly tired after the previous evening’s activities. He decided to wake him later with a lavish brunch, which he was starting to put together as well.

Almost everything was ready to just sit and simmer for many hours, even into the next day. The stocks had the benefit of only occasionally needing to be tended. The rich, red meat stock had just come to a boil, and Hannibal reduced the heat. He had washed carrots and celery at the ready, to be chopped and added to it. Standing there, working away for hours in his kitchen was meditative for Hannibal. The bones he used were left over from the previous week’s meals, and would become a part of the next. His bleached cotton apron, white shirt with sleeves rolled up the elbows, the sinews of his arms working as he scrubbed the carrots grounded him in a way nothing else in his life could. It was an unbroken cycle in which he found great delight.        

. . . . .

Sleep for Will was a strange thing; if it came at all, it did so in starts and stops, an interrupted series of peculiar dreams that normally left him tired and confused once he finally woke. This morning, however, was different. He came around slowly, as leisurely as he could given his perpetual backdrop of anxiety. Stretching, he yawned loudly, twisting over on his back and feeling a delightful soreness in his thighs. The unfamiliar slide of expensive sheets against his skin and the unexpected ache in his muscles jolted him out of his sleepy haze. He sat up with a start, looking around the room, breath catching slightly as he tried to get his bearings.

 _Hannibal. I'm in Hannibal's house_. He fell back with a grunt, head almost swallowed by an impossibly thick pillow. Two things were immediately apparent as he settled a hand on his chest: he was half-hard and Hannibal was nowhere to be found. Thoughts drifting lazily back to the previous night, he felt a hot blush creeping down his neck at the images that flashed through his mind:

Hannibal had shoved him forward, pushing him down insistently on hands and knees with his ass high in the air, a broad hand settling on the back of his head. Caressing gently for a moment, Hannibal rubbed soothing circles against his scalp, before pressing Will's face into the mattress. A strong arm had locked around his hips, holding him in place, as the other man straightened up. Slick fingers brushed lightly at his entrance, then slid suddenly inside, stretching him roughly as he whined. Will remembered pleading, his cock hanging heavy and untouched between his trembling thighs.

His hand had strayed from his chest to his belly, following the blush that crept down his skin, fingers curling around his half-hard cock. He moaned, the sound of his own voice startling him out of his reverie. He hurriedly clamped a hand over his mouth, looking around the room. Hannibal was still nowhere in sight. Sighing deeply, he felt a pang of loneliness as to the other man's whereabouts. Had he missed some sort of opportunity while he slept? He climbed out of bed, finding his boxers and shirt carefully folded on a nearby chair. Grinning at the thought of Hannibal folding his clothes, he pulled them on quickly, heading downstairs.

Just as he was about to start the final preparations for the stock, Hannibal heard Will coming downstairs. Fortunately, any unusual looking bones were already simmering away. He’d hoped to finish completely and move to starting some truffle oil, spinach, and mushroom omelets, and homemade sausage, as he believed Will would need something hearty to eat after the previous evening. For now, he could only offer him coffee. Will would just have to be patient while he finished these final steps and moved on to provide him with some nourishment.

However, when he saw the other man enter the kitchen, still rubbing his eyes, and in a state of near undress, and…near excitement, he raised an eyebrow in amusement. Clearly, Will was unused to being an overnight houseguest. This could become rather interesting.

“Good morning, Will. I see you neglected to find the dressing gown I set out for you.”

“Dressing gown?” Will scratched the back of his neck, yawning. “I don’t need a dressing gown,” he mumbled, running a hand over his face, still groggy, “I need you to come back to bed.” He padded over to the stove where Hannibal stood. Suddenly aware of his own state of undress, he stared down at his bare feet, cold against the ornate stone floor, and looked over at the other man who was fully clothed. Almost shyly, he grabbed Hannibal’s wrist, tugging lightly.

“Please, come back to bed. I woke and you were gone.” Will leant over one of the pots on the stove, staring down at the stock that simmered slowly. He was momentarily distracted, hand still clutching at Hannibal’s wrist, thumb rubbing absently against his skin. “What are you making?” He looked up at the other man and, as if on queue, his stomach rumbled loudly. Will ducked his head, huffing out an embarrassed laugh.

“Come on, please, whatever you’re making can wait.” He grinned up at Hannibal, squeezing his hand slightly.

Knowing that Will was aroused and wanting more of what he experienced the night before gave Hannibal an advantage he could exploit. He acted as if Will hadn't blatantly propositioned him in his kitchen, and decided to see how far he would go.

"I'm afraid it cannot wait, but fortunately there is not much left that I must do. These are stocks which I will be using in the upcoming week. They will simmer for the rest of the weekend. And if you allow me to complete this task, I plan to cure that hunger you appear to be developing."

Hannibal gracefully sidestepped Will, and went over to where the final ingredients he needed to chop were waiting on a cutting board.

Will blinked as Hannibal withdrew his hand; he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as the other man moved away to his cutting board. He considered the possibility that he had performed badly the previous night, and this was Hannibal’s polite dismissal.

He trailed after him, regardless, coming to rest by his side at the array of vegetables. Poking at a bunch of carrots, he resisted the urge to touch Hannibal’s arm, to grab his wrist again and try to drag him back to the bedroom.

“Can I kiss you then, please? It’s just soup, it can wait…” he trailed off quietly, looking hopefully back at Hannibal.

Hannibal straightened his back when he heard Will refer to his creations in this way. He pointedly ignored the request for a kiss.

"I can assure you that this is not 'just soup,' and even if it were, surely you know that I take my cooking very seriously. I would consider it disrespectful if you were to continue discussing it in this way."

He began chopping one of the carrots. But he did not make any move to remove himself from the very close proximity of Will's body, pressing the side of his hip against Will's thigh. Hannibal turned his head to conceal his smile at the shiver he felt course through the other man.

Will mentally kicked himself for his lack of social graces - standing barefoot, nearly undressed in the kitchen, aroused and insulting Hannibal’s food; he would have run, had he not been so terribly turned on.

He pressed back against Hannibal and, when he didn't move away, Will growled. He was being passed over for soup stock? Frustrated, he grabbed the bunch of celery, snapping off a piece at the base and haphazardly tossing the rest back on the cutting board. He let his mouth drop open with a loud groan, tongue already poking out between his teeth, and licked the underside of the stalk.

Pushing the flared end passed his lips with an obscene wet sound, his head fell back in contrived ecstasy, as he panted and arched his back. Moaning, tonguing at the broken end, he licked the ridges and slid it back into his mouth with a thrusting motion.

Looking up, eyes locked on Hannibal, his teeth closed over the end, and with a satisfying snap, he bit through. He feigned weakness in the knees, pitching forward and grabbing on to the marble countertop, hand slamming down with a thud, as he swallowed hard.  

Although he was taken aback by Will’s lascivious display, and how surprisingly forward this was, Hannibal was secretly gratified that he’d pushed him to it. But he wanted to make him think he’d crossed a line (and did need to finish up the stocks, after all). So when Will’s hand connected with the countertop, Hannibal snatched it quickly, and steered Will over to a chair. With quick determination, he set him in it firmly, and gave him a look that said _do not move_.

Hannibal surveyed the immediate area, and when his eyes fell upon the plastic cling wrap on the prep table, he smiled wickedly. He took it, and approached Will fidgeting on the chair from behind. The sound it made as it was pulled from the roll appeared to startle him, but he didn't have time to react or turn around before it was wrapped around his forearms and waist, binding him to the chair, fixing him in place.

“Will, I need to you take a deep breath. Hold the air in your lungs for a moment.”

Hannibal continued to wrap upwards, around his chest and the chair, ensuring there was adequate give in the wrap for Will to breathe. Soon, Will was bound from abdomen to clavicle. He then stepped back and surveyed the sight of Will, looking confused, and thoroughly unable to move. For good measure, Hannibal then wrapped each of his legs to each of the chairs’.

Once finished, he said nothing, and went back to prepping the remaining vegetables.

Will sat, unmoving, mouth hanging open. He tried to say Hannibal’s name, but it died on his lips before he was able, a quiet groan taking its place instead. Attempting to puzzle through what just happened, he stared at the other man’s back. There was a slight crunch at the prep table, and though the source of the noise was obscured by Hannibal’s frame, Will knew it was the celery. He grimaced.

Squirming slightly, testing his makeshift bonds, he found he was quite immobile. “Hannibal!” Will struggled harder, grunting, as he tried to free his arms. “Come on, let me out of this!”

He went suddenly quiet as he looked down, however, realizing his restraints did nothing to calm his growing erection. “Shit,” he swore quietly under his breath, nervously looking up at Hannibal, hoping to calm himself before he turned around.

Even though he had already decided what he was going to do with Will now that he had him in this restrained and vulnerable position, Hannibal was more than happy to extend his torment and keep him guessing.

“I will let you go when I have finished what I was doing, and you've assisted me in certain capacities. Agreed?”

He took Will’s silence as a tacit agreement.

“Now. Keep your eyes closed, and tell me if you think this has adequate salt.”

He got a small spoonful of the vegetable stock and brought it over to Will, who obeyed his instruction to not look, parting his lips with the utensil. The outline of his cock was evident against the thin material of his boxers, and Hannibal had a perfect opportunity to observe it freely by employing this method. He made sure to stand as close as possible to Will’s side, just lightly pressing his body against one of Will’s plastic-clad arms. The heat from it radiated even through Hannibal’s clothing. He enjoyed the slight twitch he could see as a result of doing this, and how Will shifted nervously in his chair in response.

Will's confusion was almost palpable. He swallowed, licking his lips, as Hannibal withdrew the spoon. Not knowing if he was supposed to open his eyes, he kept them closed, leaning into the other man as much as he was able. He turned his head toward the direction of Hannibal's voice.

"It's good, it's..." he squirmed again, frustrated at his lack of suitable culinary terms. "It tastes..." a whimper escaped as he struggled to find a word other than "soup" to describe it. "It's earthy," he finally offered with a deep, relieved sigh. "Oh! The salt!" He grinned to himself, pleased he had even remembered the original question, "yes, it has enough salt."

The distraction was short-lived, however, as he felt Hannibal press lightly against him once more. His breath quickened; he could feel the blush, from his daydream upstairs, returning. "Please," he whispered, resting his head against the high-backed chair.

Deliberately misinterpreting Will’s pleas, Hannibal said, “Thank you.  And yes, you can taste another one.”

He went over to the chicken stock, which he had just added the vegetables to.

“I am aware that this one does not have the proper vegetable flavor infused in it yet, but can you tell me if the stock would benefit from more onions?”

He was pleased to see that Will had not yet opened his eyes. He gave him a spoonful of the stock, this time placing two fingers under his jawline to lift his face slightly. After he’d taken the spoon in his mouth, Hannibal caressed his cheek. After the spoon was withdrawn, Will’s mouth remained open, his breathing getting heavier and faster. Hannibal thought that this was going very well, indeed. He left him alone once again, this time walking over to the far end of the counter, and removed his apron.

Will seemed incapable of understanding the question, much less answering. He made an incoherent noise, shifting slightly, unaware that Hannibal had moved away. His tongue darted out, and he licked his bottom lip, having completely forgotten about the stock.

Thoughts drifting again, he imagined Hannibal bending him over the kitchen island, his own hands sliding uselessly against the polished marble, as the other man thrust into him. Fucking him, hard, long past the point where Will was a sobbing, shaking mess, Hannibal pressed his hands into his hips as much to keep him still as to keep him upright.

Will moaned, lost in thought, his fingers twitching at his sides as his head rolled against the chair.

A few feet away from Will, Hannibal was enjoying the thought that his vivid imagination was kicked into high gear by the clearly exasperating torment he was inflicting. The stocks were finished being prepared now, and brunch would clearly have to wait. He untucked his shirt and unzipped his trousers, and went back over to where Will was writhing against his bonds, eyes still shut, and still obviously aroused in his boxers.

“One last thing for you to taste, Will,” he said, running his hands through his soft hair, bringing his head forward.

When he touched his half-hard cock to Will’s lips, the groan that emerged from them was much more satisfying than any food he might prepare that morning. He could play Will like an instrument this way. He parted his lips eagerly, tonguing at the underside of Hannibal’s cock, which was growing hard under his rapt attention, still unseeing, but his frustrated expression replaced by one of bliss.

Slowly, Hannibal began sliding his length inside Will’s mouth a few inches at a time, one hand still tangled loosely in his hair, withdrawing only to trace his lips once again.

“Now,” he said sweetly, “isn’t this a much better use of your mouth than performing lewd acts upon celery?”

Quiet sounds of pleasure, soft moans and whimpers, fell from his lips, muffled by Hannibal’s cock as he slid slowly back inside; he paused for a heartbeat, then eased out once more. Will shuddered as he felt the careful touch of the other man’s fingers combing through his hair as he withdrew.

He took a deep breath, waiting patiently as Hannibal slipped back into his mouth. He wrapped his lips around the sensitive head, pressing hard against the slit, swallowing around him as much as he was able.

He thought he felt a slight shiver run through the other man, his cock almost completely hard now, resting heavy and full against Will’s eager tongue.

Once Hannibal had taken enough pleasure with shallow incursions into Will’s mouth, he put his right hand on his forehead, tilting his head back. He was standing completely over him, this new angle affording him the opportunity to slide completely down past Will’s tongue, the head of his now fully hard cock probing deeply. He pulled out occasionally just enough to let him breathe.

Hannibal’s left hand glided over Will’s right cheek, down to the side of his neck where he could see and feel his length pushing against the inside of Will’s throat.

“Very good, Will. Just like that. Show me how much you enjoy this.”

Before his gag reflex could take effect, Hannibal pulled out again, savoring the appearance of Will’s swollen lips as he tried again and again to swallow him down completely.

Pinned between the other man and the chair, Will was thoroughly at his mercy. He imagined the scene in his mind; Hannibal looming over him, one hand keeping his head pressed back, the other feeling the slight bulge in his throat as he struggled to swallow, lips stretched tight around his cock. He was nearly delirious with the image, groaning loudly against Hannibal.

Still composed, Hannibal withdrew enough to let Will take in another quick, labored breath as he strained beneath him. He moaned openly, almost pained at the loss of contact when the other man pulled out. “Please, more…” he stuttered, opening his mouth, chest heaving deeply.

The sight of Will’s lips, which enveloped and pleaded around his cock, animated Hannibal’s lust such that there was no holding back now.

“Suck hard like a good boy.”

He eased back in, slowly at first, feeling Will’s lips closed tight around him, watching him engrossed in concentration.

“So very hungry you are, Will. I see I must indulge you.”

Hannibal put both hands on Will’s jawline, essentially holding his mouth open at its joint. Soon he was relentlessly fucking his throat; by contrast, he still gently grazed his fingers through Will’s hair and over his face.

He gazed intently at Will, who seemed lost in the act. Hannibal would allow him an occasional breath of air, but otherwise did not let up until his own consciousness was adrift in the rhythm of thrusting and sucking.

The contrast between the gentle caresses against his face and the brutal invasion of Hannibal’s thrusts was dizzying. Will felt worshipped, as much as he felt he was returning the act on the man above him. The wet sound of Hannibal’s actions drove Will’s arousal even further as he felt saliva dripping from his lips and down his chin.

The other man’s movements were more precise now, the sensitive head of his cock pressing hard and fast against Will’s tongue. “Perfect,” he whispered, “open your eyes for me.”

Hannibal stopped thrusting a few moments later, hips incredibly still as he carefully pushed as far down Will’s throat as he could. He was nearly buried all the way inside, the other man swallowing desperately around his hard length, eyes wide. Hannibal was unmoving, until he felt Will begin to struggle beneath him, only then pulling out just enough to let him take a shallow breath.

He stared down at him, brushing Will’s fringe from his forehead. Wrapping his other hand under his chin and lifting his head up, he gently rubbed his fingers against his neck to relax his throat.

“All the way down for me this time, Will.”

Will's mouth was so hot and tight around him, as he felt the friction increasing, building his release slowly but inevitably now. He rocked into it, short, sharp, forceful thrusts that required only small movements.

His eyes were locked onto Will's, who appeared hypnotically focused on what he was doing. Hannibal pushed his hand through Will's hair at his forehead, holding tightly, his other still softly at his throat.

His breaths came heavy, and turned into dark sounds of pleasure.

"Are you ready for me, Will? Ready for me to slake your thirst?"

He was beyond the ability to respond in any capacity, other than taking in a short, desperate breath, one he dimly thought might be his last for several moments. Will felt his eyes watering involuntarily, sweat clinging to his brow as he shuddered.

Hannibal’s last few thrusts were particularly brutal before he finally felt Will’s throat relax; he sank all the way inside, the other man’s lips pressed tight against the base of his cock.

Will’s eyes went wide, pleading frantically, as he stared up at Hannibal.

The combination of desire and fear that Hannibal saw in Will as he watched him try with everything in him to bear Hannibal’s deep intrusion, how fully he was under his control, sent him crashing over the edge. What started off as a satisfied moan transformed into a growl as he came hard in the depths of Will’s throat.

Feeling Will try frantically to swallow down his cum, feeling his throat muscles convulsing around his cock, was almost unbearably perfect. Hannibal felt his own heart rate increase with each surge. He braced himself on the back of the chair, knuckles white, one hand still at Will’s jaw. Seeing his eyes go unfocused, and roll back, Hannibal finally regained some control and pulled back, the final spurts going hot against his tongue. Then Will gasped, taking a full, desperate lungful of air around the still hard length in his mouth, and came back to awareness. Tears were streaming down his face, as he weakly ran his lips over the wet head of Hannibal’s cock, still leaking.

Hannibal eventually pulled back, cock dragging slowly across Will’s tongue as he slipped out. Mouth still open as he panted, a trail of saliva and the last of Hannibal’s cum smeared his face. Touching the wet lips gently, he slicked his fingers, before slipping them into Will’s soft mouth. Moaning quietly, his tongue pressed against the pads of Hannibal’s fingers to clean them. There was a pleased noise from the man above him and Will smiled tiredly as the hand was pulled back.

He let his head fall forward, too exhausted to hold it up any longer. He had never been so grateful to be bound, as he was sure his restraints were the only thing keeping him upright. Drawing in another deep, shuddering breath, he closed his eyes as a few stray tears spilled down his flushed cheeks.

Despite his exhaustion, Hannibal could clearly see the hard curve of Will's cock pressed against his belly, still enclosed in the boxer shorts he'd hurriedly thrown on after getting out of bed. He lifted Will's head up from where his chin was touching his chest. Straddling his lap, he simultaneously kissed him deeply and sank down. Before he could react, Hannibal was guiding Will's surging erection to be trapped between his thigh, abdomen, and Hannibal's leg.  Tasting himself on Will's lips was almost as intoxicating as feeling him moan into the kiss, finally getting some sensation on his untouched cock.

Hannibal broke the kiss, and said breathlessly, "So good, Will. It seems you may have enjoyed that more than I did."

Will gasped, momentarily stunned by the swift action, and leaned into the touch. The sounds of Hannibal being slightly breathless went straight to his cock as he captured the other man in another kiss. Parting Hannibal’s lips, he tentatively pushed his tongue inside, moaning quietly.

He pulled back after several moments, whimpering. Burying his face against the curve of his neck, he whispered, “Please, Hannibal, I want to touch you so badly, will you unbutton your shirt?”

Despite the fact that Will had clearly been expending so much energy to be able to suck him as hard and deep as he had, he was still evidently very much engaged with what was transpiring between them. Will's enthusiasm was contagious. Teasing him, and wishing to keep the game going for a little while longer, Hannibal said, "Will, I am not sure if you are fully aware of your state of confinement, but you have no means to touch me just now. And I am not letting you go."

Still, he undid a few buttons on his shirt down below his already open collar. Will's full attention was on his hands as he did, and Hannibal felt Will's cock surge as his eyes played over the newly exposed flesh.

Will bit his lip at the sight, sighing, before he strained upward as far as he could. Licking gently at Hannibal’s neck, his teeth closed softly over the flesh as he worried the skin slightly. He sucked, not hard enough to bruise, but with just enough pressure for Hannibal to move slightly at the contact. Pulling back, he kissed the spot, pushing his tongue against the rapidly fading mark.

Lifting his head, he looked up at Hannibal, his gaze unfocused but alert. He was suddenly back in his previous vision, only it was Hannibal that had been wrestled to the bed. Pressed against the mattress, he stretched beneath Will, muscles pulling tight as he moved. Moaning, startled by the images he was seeing, Will pressed his forehead against Hannibal’s chest, his breaths coming heavy and erratic against the other man’s skin.

This entire set of events had brought some things to the surface of Will's personality that both startled and intrigued Hannibal. After the hesitant bite, that Hannibal correctly surmised was Will testing the boundaries of what he was permitted to do, he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt.

Hannibal's hair was loose over his forehead as he looked down at Will, seeing the hunger in his eyes deepen. He again stroked his hair, and the side of his face; but this time, he guided Will's mouth back to the place on Hannibal's skin where he'd sucked. He wanted to see how far this would go, and knew he'd succeeded in fanning the flames when Will's cock became harder still under Hannibal's thigh, as his breath quickened.

Will cried out as Hannibal touched him, the contact like fire along his nerve endings. He nipped the same spot, before mouthing at Hannibal’s collarbone, and pressing heated, open kisses against the curve of his shoulder and under his jaw. Trailing his lips along his neck, he dipped his tongue against the hollow of his throat.

There was a broken sob suddenly, muffled by Hannibal’s skin, as Will struggled to free himself. The frustration of being bound sent him cascading into fantasy, and he saw himself wrestling with Hannibal, pressing his thighs apart with his knee as he locked an arm around his broad chest. Curling over his back, he sank his fingers into his own mouth before shoving them between the cleft of Hannibal’s ass. The man beneath him growled, and Will buried himself inside with one quick thrust before he could be thrown off.

Will’s head fell back against the chair. He rocked his hips slightly and at once went wild. Surging forward with an incoherent noise, his mouth closed over Hannibal’s shoulder and he sank his teeth in, hard, as he rutted helplessly against his thigh.

So unexpected and sharp was the bite that Hannibal's usually controlled exterior slipped for a moment as he let out a small exclamation of both pain and...something else. The movements underneath him...what was going on in Will's mind? What had been brought to light today?

"Will...are you fantasizing about fucking me?"

The blunt question, asked not with reproach but with dark lust, snapped Will's attention back to reality. How did he know? Was it that obvious? Could he ever think...?

Hannibal put his mouth directly over Will's ear. "I would allow it, you know. But like this. Using you. In control of you. Riding you and making you cum harder than you could possibly imagine. And I know you have a very active imagination, Will. You're so hard against me. You're almost ready to cum all over yourself just thinking about it."

Will hid his face against Hannibal’s shoulder, a useless attempt to keep him from seeing the hot blush that was creeping past his neck and down his chest. With every last shred of strength he tried to keep his hips still, to avoid drawing more attention to his fantasy. After Hannibal’s words, however, it was too much.

He saw himself being bound, with rope this time, carefully and slowly, almost with reverence.  Hannibal’s touch was maddeningly gentle until Will’s cock was hard and weeping against his belly.

Shuddering as the other man’s lips brushed his ear, Will moaned, a frantic pleading noise. The thin material of his boxers hid nothing, precum clearly evident as the light cotton clung to his overheated skin.

“Please, Hannibal!”

Even if Hannibal couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of Will’s body, he would still be able to read his mind. He’d put the scenario into him, where it was slowly burning its way through his brain and down to his cock, straining against him. Will could barely shift his body, so Hannibal met his small upwards movements with much harder ones of his own, grinding down, the hard length trapped between leg and upper thigh.

Hannibal rolled his hips faster, and gripped Will’s hair once again, wrenching his head back, and landing a hard kiss against his pulse, trailing his tongue up to Will’s mouth, trapping his sighs and frantic breaths. He pulled back, and looking Will directly in his pleading eyes, gripped the back of the chair. Leverage to press and rock harder against him still, and simulate what it would look and feel like when he fucked himself on Will’s cock, bound to a chair perhaps just like this.

Will met Hannibal’s gaze, suddenly feeling as if he were laid bare before the other man, all of his hidden thoughts tumbling from his mind in a mad rush. His head sagged in Hannibal’s grip, eyes rolling back.

He saw Hannibal swinging a leg over his bound form, graceful and purposeful as always, sliding close and pressing into him. Sinking down, inch-by-inch, he impaled himself until he sat heavy atop Will’s thighs. He felt him stretching around his cock, the pressure so intense he sobbed out Hannibal’s name as he rolled his hips in a perfect beat.

Will’s breath hitched painfully as the scene faded to blackness; he pressed his open mouth against Hannibal’s bare shoulder, moaning. He lost the small rhythm he had found, cock full and aching against his thigh. Climaxing abruptly, with a startled whimper that descended quickly into broken sobs, his cum spilled hot down his skin. Boxers completely wet, cock throbbing almost painfully, his vision dimmed as he collapsed limply against his restraints.

Awareness returned slowly, in bits and pieces. He was dizzy and overheated, still shivering through the aftershocks of his orgasm as the room tilted on its axis.

“Will you kiss me again?” He asked quietly, feeling unmoored now that a hidden desire had been made so obvious. Struggling weakly, he tried to put his arms around Hannibal, forgetting in his haze that he was still bound.

Hannibal kissed him deeply, though briefly; Will was trembling, mostly with exertion, but also with the realization that he’d exposed a part of his inner self. Hannibal stood slowly, letting muscles return to normal function.

Will’s head sagged to his chest, and Hannibal placed one hand on his shoulder, reassuringly. He left for a few moments; changing his clothes, even though they’d avoided getting anywhere near as soaked as Will’s were, and rearranging his hair. When he returned, Will tipped his head back, breathing in sharply, as if he’d been asleep for a moment. He smiled weakly, and looked down at himself.

“You have made something of a mess of yourself, Will,” Hannibal chided. He retrieved a large pair of very sharp kitchen shears, likely bigger than strictly necessary for the task of cutting through plastic wrap. Standing behind Will, he slit the plastic straight up the back, completely avoiding his clothing, but making sure to press the steel unto his flesh, hard enough to mark but not cut. Just another reminder of the control he’d promised.

Walking around to face Will, he said, “It’s time to get cleaned up. I’m sure you’re quite hungry after all of that exertion.” He helped him get to his feet, shaky and unsteady. Steering him upstairs, Hannibal returned to the task of preparing brunch, which he’d attempted to start after putting the stocks to simmer.

Will climbed the stairs slowly, muscles protesting the entire way. He stripped, once in the bathroom, dropping thankfully into the lavish shower. Turning the taps, probably colder than they needed to be, he scrubbed down before resting against the stone bench. The threat of sleep was tugging at him now that he was finally clean, so he finished quickly and dried off. He smiled when he saw Hannibal had left clean clothes for him on the bed, so he dressed properly this time, and carried his other items off to be washed.

Hannibal had set a large tumbler of iced water at Will’s customary spot at the table, and when he spotted it as he came down the stairs, a needy little noise escaped his lips before he could stop it. An amused look tugged at the corner of Hannibal’s lips as Will slid into his chair, legs still unsteady, and gratefully drank down the entire glass.

Will sat quietly, listening to the sounds of the other man moving about his most prized domain. He wanted to avoid retreating back into himself, but his mind was still tired from all that transpired that morning. Compromising with himself, instead, he stood and moved to be near Hannibal again. Not wanting to invade his space as he had before, Will kept to the side, out of his way.  It was enjoyable to watch him cook, in some manner, so long as he didn’t put much thought into the complicated preparations he knew he’d never be able to reproduce on his own.

There was a moment of stillness as Hannibal watched things simmer. Will reached out as he had that morning, his movements slow this time, and grasped Hannibal’s wrist lightly. He was dismayed to see how his own hand still trembled. A small smile passed over Hannibal’s features and Will felt relief flood through his system. He pulled his hand back as Hannibal began plating the food.

“Come, Will,” he replied brightly, falling in step with the other man. He carried Will’s plate to the table, pressing a warm hand to the small of his back as he steered him toward his seat.

“I’m very hungry,” Will said, the hint of something much deeper underlying his words.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when you spend too much time talking about the face touching in the ear/tube scene. It turns into face-fucking, of course. 
> 
> The title of our story comes from the Danish for “beef soup,” a staple of the Danish household of yesteryear. Prepared traditionally ("Gammeldags oksekødssuppe” means Old Fashion Beef Soup after all), one needs to make stock from beef bones and let it simmer for quite some time to extract all of the flavor. We’re positive that Hannibal dabbles in various cuisines from all over the world - and while he certainly might have some beef bones simmering away in his stock, we’re pretty sure there are some “other” bones in there as well!


End file.
